AAAAH IM SO SORRY!
My last like eight reviews are all about how I need to update faster. I really am sorry guys! It's just I'm in a theater group and our play's this week so I've been cramming for that, I have three huge projects going on in school (not to mention loads of homework), and literally the only free time I have is on Sunday and that day is also still full of schoolwork.
BUT, the play will be over next Sunday, and I will have tons of extra time (it takes up a load of my time). So hopefully I will update sooner.
Also, I am getting major writer's block with this story and am actually trying to start another.
*ooh ahh*
Yeah I know, such an overachiever.
With that said, here's chapter 11!
Ch.11: Window Jumping
With the luck I had, it only made sense that after what could actually be viewed as a good day (minus almost being killed and talking with the biggest hole of the biggest ass- Puck's words) would also be the worst night yet.
If you could get any worse than me almost killing him, that is.
Walking from the restaurant, I was stuffed, heavy with food but somehow light at the same time, a warm softness that seemed to spread across my chest. Puck kept going on and on about he'd pretty much ingested an entire cow, and I kept telling him to please stop saying that, or I might throw up all of the food that was somehow still in my stomach.
Of course, he had just smirked and said that was his goal. I didn't even have the energy to glare at him.
We drove to the nearest hotel (him driving, not me, because as fun as it was to rock some feminism and show him who was boss, I didn't particularly feel like driving with my already sloshing stomach), pulling to a stop in the parking lot.
"Shouldn't we, I don't know, do something?" I asked as we stepped off.
Puck raised an eyebrow. "We are doing something. I think I just ingested a whole cow."
I just rolled my eyes instead of threatening to kill him if he said that one more time. "I mean something along the lines of, I don't know, rescuing my parents?"
Puck snorted. "Oh please. In this state? The best I could do would be to barf all over Mirror. And trust me, it doesn't taste as good going in as it does coming out."
Ok, ew. But the warm feeling was starting to wear off, and with that came the panic. The thought of 'did I really just waste an entire day at a hospital and then at some stupid restaurant?' I was supposed to be working hard to get my parents back. Meaning no rests and no time wasting. And what had this entire day been exactly?
"But Puck-"
"No. No buts. I'm in charge." Then his mouth spread into a grin and he giggled. "I said butts."
I groaned, rubbing my forehead with my hands. "See? This is why I'm not so sure how I feel about your position of power."
"Well cry yourself a river, build a bridge, and get over it." Pause. "I've always wanted to say that."
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, stepping past him towards the hotel lobby. He skipped after me.
"Excuse me, do you have a room we could stay in for a night?" I asked politely once we were inside.
The woman at the desk looked up at me, face painted in a bright smile. "Of course! Now, would you like two queen beds, or a king bed for the happy couple?"
She winked at us. I gagged as my face no doubt turned bright red, but Puck just wrapped his arm around my shoulder.
"A king bed, please. The happy couple is thinking about getting a little happier. If you know w-"
I elbowed him hard in the ribs, shoving his arm off of me. "Two queens. Thank you," I said. The woman was smart enough to not argue.
"That hurt!" Puck whined.
"Cry yourself a river, build a bridge, and get over it," I returned in a voice that was supposed to sound like his.
He crossed his arms in a pout.
Ten minutes later, and we had successfully bought room 245 for the night. It was small, but cozy, and had two queen beds (thank you desk woman).
"Hey! I'm pretty sure there's a Harry Potter marathon on ABC! If you turn it on we might have time to watch that vampire dude die!" Puck announced as soon as we had put our stuff down.
It took a while for 'vampire dude' to set in. "Oh. You know, just because he plays a vampire in another movie does not-"
"Vampire dude."
I sighed, but he plopped down on the couch and looked at me like a little puppy begging for food, so I turned on the TV, flipped it to ABC, and sure enough, The Goblet of Fire was playing.
And how the heck was I supposed to say no to watching Harry Potter?
So instead of showering, we just sat together on the couch, hips inches apart, rubbing our stomachs as we watched the rest of the movie. Of course, I cried when Cedric died.
"You're such a pathetic little weakling," Puck commented idly.
I punched him in the side.
"Wow. That actually proved your pathetic weakling-ness."
I punched him harder. He decided to stop insulting me. And then Goblet of Fire became Order of the Phoenix, and it wasn't like I could just decide to not watch it. It was physically impossible.
So we plowed on through that one too, and by the end of the movie it was pitch black outside, the clock read 11:02, and my eyelids were having trouble staying up.
Luckily for my body (unluckily for my mind, which wanted to keep watching until oblivion), the marathon ended there, saying that the last two (or technically three) movies would play tomorrow. Which was a Sunday… I thought. It was hard to keep time when you were running around with a killer.
For a few moments, Puck and I just sat there, too tired to move, eyes fixed on the screen as the credits dragged by.
"I should take a shower," I said eventually.
"You should. You smell like my grandma's diarrhea."
I was too smart to ask about that. "Yeah, but I'm so tired."
"Deal with it Grimmsie-poo. No way am I going anywhere with someone who reeks that badly."
"Oh yeah, have you smelled yourself lately? And when was the last time you showered?"
"My natural odor is of roses and vanilla, so don't you dare even attempt to insult me. And besides, I showered this morning buttcheek."
I rolled my eyes, grabbing my pajamas out of my bag and shuffling over to the bathroom. I had never been closer to actually falling asleep standing up. The water washed over me, warm and smooth, like a gentle caress, and for once in my life I was actually content. Full, warm, happy, and just having watched Harry Potter.
Weird I could ever feel something like content with my parents gone… with a lunatic as my source of getting them back. But my mind was slowly deleting the word lunatic, maniac, psychopath from relating to Puck. Which for once I didn't think was totally bad. Because after the restaurant, I had decided to take a chance on him. To step out of my comfort zone and actually be his friend… to try and change him for the better.
If it was possible.
My pajamas consisted of athletic shorts and a baggy shirt that had 'New York' printed on it in big black letters. When I walked out, Puck was still on the couch. Only he wasn't sitting, he was laying. And his eyes were closed. And his breath was tickling the golden curl falling over his face. And he was wearing his pajamas, the long-sleeved white T-shirt and plaid sweatpants from the night before. And he was sprawled out on the couch, one arm hanging off the edge, face pushed against his other hand, legs tangled together.
And for some reason it made this stupid smile spread across my face and something soft warm my heart. I couldn't exactly just leave him like that, because the position he was in actually looked extremely painful, so I walked over to him, nudging him lightly.
"Puck?"
He didn't answer. Didn't even react.
"Puck? Come on, you need to go to bed."
"Shuddup," he murmured into his hand, voice deep and slow with sleep.
"Puck, when you wake up you're going to be super uncomfortable from sleeping like this. Come on," I insisted.
He grumbled something, and without opening his eyes, stretched out his hands to me. "Carry me."
I rolled my eyes, but the softness in my chest kept spreading, so I reached down, wrapping an arm under his, heaving him off of the couch. I wasn't carrying him as much as I was dragging him. He leaned against me, cheek nuzzled in the crook of my neck, and his skin seemed to burn mine as we stumbled to his bed. I lowered his upper body onto the bed as carefully as possible. The rest of him seemed to get the memo, and he groggily adjusted himself up onto the mattress. I pulled the covers out from underneath him slowly before draping them over him, and he instantly snuggled up into the pillow.
And I was still smiling like an idiot. When I realized it, I walked quickly over to my bed, something flushing in my face. I pulled down my covers, hopping into the bed, checking my phone for any texts from Granny Relda (none, as usual, which was a good thing because she said she'd text me if something went wrong, but a bad thing because I missed her horribly), and then put it up and closed my eyes, that little tingling feeling still tickling my chest.
Sleep washed over me just like the shower (and practically everything else in this weird day) had, warmly and happily and gently.
Waking up wasn't nearly as nice.
I heard a sound. And as much as most of me wanted to ignore the sound and stay in the soft hold of sleep, something in me knew this was more important, knew there was something about this sound that needed me to wake up.
So I did, eyes opening slowly, mind still fogged with dreams as I looked around, as I tried to determine what was making the noise.
I really should've known a one-night-nightmare wasn't going to happen. If there was something in Puck causing nightmares, and he didn't even attempt to talk about it, of course he was going to have more nightmares. But I hadn't thought of that. Which was why I was so unprepared when I saw the noise came from him.
"Not again," I whispered, a flood of cold waking me up in an instant. I pushed myself up in bed, squinting through the darkness to look at Puck. All I saw was his back, rigid and tight, and his fingers were digging into it from being wrapped around his chest, nails pushed hard against his shirt. He made another noise, a whimper. I was out of bed in seconds, and on the side of his in two more.
His face was tight, all of his muscles clenched, a crease in between his eyebrows, lips set in a deep frown. Just like the time before, his knees were curled up against his chest in a tiny, painful-looking ball. Only he was shaking, body twitching with small tremors that wouldn't stop. He was sprung taut like a coil, vibrating with the tension, with the pent up energy in his form, crunched together too small, too tight. It hurt to look at.
And that wasn't mentioning the whimpers. Little noises from the bottom of his throat that escaped every few seconds. Full of memory, of pain, of something that hurt that I had no idea of.
"Puck, come on, don't do this again," I said, scared to touch him, scared I would mess something up, would hurt him more somehow. My hand hovered uselessly over his body as his face distorted in ways that made my heart wring in on itself.
There were no words this time, just pain, just hints of an agony that seemed so deep, so full in those split second noises, in those horrible twists of expression.
"Please Puck, please wake up. You're alright. It's me, Sabrina, and we're fine, trust me."
His shaking increased to the point where it looked like powerful wracks of shivering, his frown somehow getting deeper, his eyebrows drawing further together. I did the only thing I could do- touched him. Just one hand, rested gently on his shoulder. And then, the energy was released. The tension, the pain, the emotion erupted out of him in the form of a loud, guttural, hurt scream.
The noise was feral, was as terrifying as it was heart-breaking, cracked and ragged as it tore up his throat with sheer force. I pulled my hand away, jumped backwards for a moment, but it didn't help, nothing helped. His hands left his back and instead found their way to his hair, scraping down his scalp, tearing lines of red on his face as he dragged them over his skin.
And the screams formed one word, over and over and over, shouted alongside the pure panic that echoed through the room. No, no no no no no no no.
I didn't realize I was crying until my vision slanted and blurred, didn't realize I was shouting things too until my throat began to sting. I reached my hands out again, grasping his forearm, his wrist, shaking him, begging him to stop.
His eyes shot open, but they weren't his. He shoved me away forcefully with his hands, and then he was off of the bed, retreating to the corner in a span of seconds, back against the wall, breathing so violently that he rose and fell with each too-fast gulp of air.
The screaming was replaced by dead silence, other than the sound of his hyperventilating. I didn't know which was better.
"Puck?" I asked tentatively. His eyes flashed to me, apparently noticing me for the first time. They were huge, dilated in panic, glowing green through the darkness, the eyes of a cornered animal that knows pain is coming, that knows death will be soon.
He didn't answer. If anything, the eyes got bigger, the breathing harder, and he pushed himself further against the wall, as if he could just disappear into it. His shirt was soaked with sweat, his curls matted to his head.
"Puck, it's alright, it's just you and me."
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded as soon as the words left my throat. His voice was shaking, weak, rough. It made something inside me burn.
"Sabrina. Grimm. We've been working together for three, four days now? I don't know, I-"
"STOP FUCKING LYING TO ME!" he shouted suddenly, chest rising and falling faster than seemed humanly possible, skin chalk white, lips shaking.
"I'm not!" I said, taking a careful step forwards, like one might approach a scared, injured beast. "We're working together to bring my parents back, from the Scarlet Hand, and-"
At the words Scarlet Hand his entire body froze, tensing, shrinking in on itself. "Scarlet Hand? No, no no not again not again no." His nails found his face again, digging into his cheeks, drawing blood.
"What not again?" I asked, something that might've been dread making my blood run cold.
"Don't act like you don't know!" he spat, words ferocious but eyes haunted, terrified, blown out of proportion. Voice harsh even as it shook with each word, even as his body shook with it. "You'll take me and you'll sit me down and, and, and…"
It seemed to be a struggle for his eyes to meet mine. "You're working with him! You've come back for me! I won't, I won't go! Not again! You can't make me!" He pulled mercilessly at his curls, body twisting in on itself, face something I didn't recognize.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" I protested, heart pounding.
His hands pushed against his skull, as if there was too much in there, but then his head shot up. Something hardened in his gaze, and then there was a knife in his hand, from seemingly nowhere, and he flung it right at me. I don't know how I managed to dodge, but I did, and what would've killed me instead sailed inches past my right shoulder. The blood rushing in my head was all I could hear.
He suddenly lunged forward, jumping over the beds in two quick strides, landing beside me and kicking out with his foot, making me go flying backwards. My back hit something hard, Puck's body was a blur of motion, there was a shattering of glass, and he was gone. Right out the window. Gone.
I just sat there against the desk I had been flung into, focusing on nothing other than breathing, of taking it all in.
Puck had woken up from a nightmare not knowing who I was. Puck had woken up from a nightmare thinking I was going to hurt him. Puck had woken up from a nightmare and bust out the window to escape me, to escape whatever it was he thought I would do to him. Puck had woken up from a nightmare and now he was gone.
Gone.
My pulse sky-rocketed.
"Holy shit," I breathed, pushing myself up, not sure what to do, not sure if I could do anything. Shards of glass decorated the carpet, glinting dangerously in the moonlight, sharp as Puck's eyes had been. My back throbbed, and I touched it instinctively. There wasn't any blood, so that was good. Seemed to be the only good thing in this entire situation. Because Puck had jumped out of a window ninja-style after seemingly not remembering who I was and now he could be anywhere in Detroit and how the hell was I supposed to find him?
Oh Lord. That was a good point. How was I supposed to find a trained, lethal assassin in the middle of a city he obviously knew very well? How was I supposed to track down someone skilled in the art of disguise and hiding and eliminating targets without them even noticing him?
I took a deep breath to calm myself down. I would clean up the glass, and if he wasn't back by then, I'd go after him. Because some part of me still believed Puck would snap out of this on his own and come back and sheepishly apologize and all would be ok. So that's exactly what I did. I picked up each tiny sliver of glass, putting on slippers so that they wouldn't prick my feet. I put all of the glass in the trashcan, and then stood at the edge of the broken window, staring out into the city, which glowed in the dark.
I saw tall buildings looming in the background, illuminated against the night sky, cars glowing like tiny fireflies, zipping around the buildings. I saw a few people walking, laughing, and a few others begging for change. But I sure didn't see Puck running around in his pajamas. I let out a long, long sigh, and pulled off my slippers in exchange for a pair of tennis shoes. I pulled on a sweater over my T-shirt, deciding not to waste time putting on pants and instead deal with my legs freezing. I pulled a beanie over my head, shoved my phone in my pocket, grabbed our keycard, and headed out of the room.
It would be ok. I reassured myself of this during the elevator ride downstairs. The lobby was vacant besides a tired looking man at the front desk. He looked at me questioningly as I walked by. I just smiled at him and exited the building.
As soon as I stepped outside, a gust of wind blew against me, seeping through my clothes and making my legs break out in goosebumps. I pulled my sweater tighter around my body, already regretting not putting on sweatpants, but I squared my shoulders and walked into the night. What was I looking for? I wasn't exactly sure. So I decided first to go to the motorcycle. Luckily, it was still there, parked against the side of the road. Which meant he couldn't have gone too far.
I pulled my phone out as a flashlight, shining it on the ground as I walked forward. A light snow had begun to fall, the flakes catching in the glowing white of my phone. It would've been pretty if I wasn't so nervous, so worried. So scared.
I didn't know this city that well. I didn't know what the people here were like. I didn't know where Puck was. At the moment, it felt like I didn't know anything. I was helpless, and harshly aware of the fact.
It took twenty minutes for me to walk down to Reindeer's Antlers. Maybe he would be there, since he seemed to love the place so much. Only it was closed, and no one was out there. I shivered, biting my lips, fear increasing with each second, with each noise.
"Calm down," I told myself. I turned on my phone, pulling up the GPS system in it. I let it calibrate to my current location, and as I did, I heard a voice. I immediately looked up, body tense, ready. I saw nothing through the shadows, but then again, that didn't mean there actually was nothing there.
"Hello?" I asked tentatively. No one responded.
It's ok, you're just imagining things, I told myself. I looked back down at my phone, which had finally updated, and studying the map, I decided to head a bit further downtown to the Detroit Riverfront. Noting to calm people down like staring at a body of water- it certainly helped me find my inner peace.
So I left Reindeer's Antlers behind, still feeling a bit uneasy, setting a fast pace to get to the river. Ten minutes of walking later, and I was there .The river was mostly frozen over by what looked to be a thin layer of ice. The stars reflected off of the glittering surface, dark in the cold evening. I decided to walk along the edge of the river, and if I still didn't find him… well… we'd see what would happen then.
The problem was, the more I walked, the more on edge I felt. I would hear muffled footsteps through the soft layer of snow on the ground, but would see nothing. I would hear whispering, even when no one was around. I was about ready to call it quits when I heard a voice call out something.
"Good evening dearie."
I whipped around, brandishing my phone like a weapon. The light captured the person sitting a bit in front of me. It was a man, thick and muscled, with socks on his hands for mittens and long, greasy black hair.
"Um, hi," I said awkwardly, ready to turn around and head the other direction. Only when I turned, there was another man standing there, tall figure threatening in the shadows. He took a step closer to me, so I backed up a bit.
"What are you doing out so late?" the sitting man asked, and it wasn't an imposing question, only the way he said each word made it sound like one.
"I was just taking a stroll, but I'm ready to head back in now," I said, trying to stay calm, to stop the shivering in my body, which was from not only coldness but fear. The sitting man smiled.
"Oh, but what if we're not ready?"
At the word we're, two more men came out of the shadows, all big and beefy and strong looking. My heart was in my throat, clawing desperately to get out.
"Sir, I have nothing, honestly. And my parents aren't far behind, and if they see you they won't be very happy, and-"
"She's lying," one of the standing men interrupted.
Another one nodded. "Yeah, we followed her for 'bout thirty minutes. Ain't nobody else wit her."
The sitting man's smile became vindictive. "Why aren't you telling the truth, missy? Are you scared?"
I stood up taller, regretting not bringing a gun or something with me. I was always too impulsive of a person for my own good.
"What do you want? I don't have anything valuable on me, honestly."
"Oh, don't worry, you're valuable enough. Nothing like a pretty little girl wandering around at night to please me and my men."
My stomach rolled unpleasantly as his words, thick and suggestive, and one of the men put a hand on my shoulder.
"Now, you're going to come quietly with us, got it? If you even try calling anyone, we will-"
A gunshot rang through the air, and the hand on my shoulder disappeared with a loud scream in my ear. I turned around, watching as the man fell to the ground, eyes rolling back in his head and blood pouring from a hole in the middle of his chest.
I turned back around, and the man sitting down was suddenly up, eyes wide. One of the other two guys took a step back, confusion flashing in his face before it ripped into an expression of agony, before he flew forward from the impact of the shot to the back of his skull.
"What the fuck!" the man who had been sitting, no doubt the leader, shouted, lurching forward and grabbing me, putting me in front of his body, as if for protection. Another gunshot, and the last of his henchmen dropped to the ground from a shot through his neck.
That's when Puck appeared out of the shadows, still in his pajamas, but looking entirely like the threatening, wild assassin he was as he strode forward purposefully, kicking one of the men's bodies out of the way.
The man holding me pulled a rusty knife out of his pocket, thrusting it up against my neck, pressing down a bit. "Don't you dare take a step closer! Or she dies!"
Puck's face was dark with rage, violent fury. "If you so much as lay another finger on her, I will rip you apart limb by limb and make you watch as I do so."
The man's hand shook, making the knife push a bit harder into my skin, making me wince. Puck's eyes stayed locked with the man's.
"You don't scare me, boy!" the man spat.
Puck fingered the gun at his side, raising it a bit. "I should."
Before either of them could say anything else, Puck flicked his arm, and suddenly another shot burned my ears. The bullet hit the man right in the forearm, the one holding me, and he howled as he dropped the knife, stepping back. I pushed him off of me, stepping as far back as I could, a sick feeling swirling in my stomach.
Puck stepped over to the man, who he kicked to the ground, raising the gun and pointing it at his forehead. I didn't even have time to stop him before he shot the man through the head. And the man didn't even have time to scream before he died.
The night was dark and dizzying and rich with the horrible smell of copper, and I lurched forward, emptying everything that had been in my stomach onto the ground. Puck blinked once, twice, eyes swiveling to the four bodies, lying silently, bleeding rich scarlet into the snow. He looked at the gun and then at me, and suddenly I had a horrible feeling that he still didn't remember who I was, that he was going to kill me too, after saving me, after killing the others.
But he didn't. Instead he tossed the gun to the ground and leaned against the railing between land and the frozen river and screamed.
"Puck, please," I said, not sure what was going on inside of his head, not sure what was going on at all anymore. I walked up to him, wrapping one arm around his waist, and then he let go of the railing, and instead of pulling away from me, he all but threw himself at me. His arms wrapped over mine, and his face was buried in my shoulder, and he wasn't screaming anymore, but sobbing, body freezing cold against my slightly less freezing cold body. At first I didn't know what to do, had no idea how to react, because Puck was not supposed to cry, definitely not supposed to cry. He was an assassin, hardened by the world, turned into an emotionless machine. And here he was, body leaning against mine, as if he would fall if I let go, which he might. I put a hand on his back, rubbing in gentle circles as he emptied himself into my shoulder.
We stayed like that for a couple minutes, until his tears died away, and he was just left shivering against me. This wasn't Deadnight, wasn't even Puck, was a small, scared boy who didn't know what to do. He pulled away, eyes big and green and watery, nose red and cheeks flushed against his otherwise pale skin.
"I'm so sorry," he said through the tears, words torn up and ragged and so raw with pain that it brought tears to my own eyes.
"Puck, you have nothing to apologize for," I whispered back, not knowing what to say.
"I didn't mean to kill them."
"Puck, it's ok."
"No, it's not. I'm a murderer. They made me a murderer."
I stiffened, pulling back. "What do you mean? Who made you a murderer?"
His eyebrows furrowed, and suddenly his face changed, wiped clean of emotion, wiped clean of everything.
"I don't know."
"Puck, what do you mean-"
He took two steps backwards, looking around, eyes large and lost until they focused on me.
"What the fuck just happened?" he asked a second later.
Something wasn't right here. "What do you mean? You killed those guys who were taking me. And-"
"What guys? Why aren't we in the hotel? What the hell is going on?"
I spoke slowly, my mind not able to wrap around what was happening. "Puck, we went to sleep. You had a nightmare. You woke up and couldn't remember who I was. You thought I was with the Scarlet Hand, and that I was going to… do something to you. Then you busted out of the hotel, and I came out trying to find you, and these guys tried to kidnap me or something, and you killed them."
His eyes roamed around as I spoke, landing on each man, absorbing what I was saying but remaining completely blank. "Grimm, none of that happened."
"Um, yes it did. You were just sobbing about it all."
He crossed his arms. "I don't sob. You must be hallucinating."
"Puck, I'm not! How do you explain us being out here then?" My voice was panicked, because there was something very, very wrong going on and I just didn't know what.
He shrugged. "I don't know, maybe I slept-walked or something?"
"You didn't! You ran out here and killed those guys and why can't you remember?"
He gripped his skull, frowning deeply, but in the end just shook his head. "Sabrina, I don't… I don't know. I don't remember any of that happening."
"Why not? Puck, think harder. I swear to God it happened! Something's wrong with you! You said Scarlet Hand did something to you, sat you down or something, maybe if you just-"
"Grimm! I have absolutely one hundred percent no idea what you're talking about! So could you please stop yelling at me?" he interrupted loudly.
"You said someone made you a murderer! You were just freaking crying, for God's sake!"
He lifted his hand up and rubbed his face, frowning at the wetness he no doubt felt there. "Sabrina… I don't… I can't…"
He looked so confused and so lost but it only served the fire of my own desperation and panic. "No, you have to. Why won't you-"
"Can we please just go back to the hotel? I don't have the answer to any of your questions."
And he didn't. I could see as much in his eyes. And it didn't make sense because he should. Because it just happened.
There was something going on here, something wrong and weird and something I didn't know about. And not knowing scared me. But there was nothing I could do about it, nothing now, so I just nodded.
"Ok. Ok. Let's go."
He looked at me strangely before following. Neither of us spoke, me being trapped in my own thoughts, he no doubt feeling the same way. I had assumed there was more to Puck than he believed. But now, it seemed that there was more to Puck than he even knew.
The man at the front desk looked even more confused than when I had walked out, raising an eyebrow at us, two teenagers who were probably blue with coldness and both wearing pajamas.
Our room was freezing, no doubt because the broken window was letting in all the cold air from outside, and Puck gave the shattered glass a confused look, same with the sheets thrown off of his bed and the lamp he had tipped over in his jump to the window.
"I don't-"
"I know, you don't know. We'll figure it out later. For now," I sighed heavily and rubbed my face, "just try and get some sleep."
He nodded, staring at me longer than necessary. "You went out in your pajamas and Nike shorts with nothing but your phone and your key card to find me."
It wasn't a question, but a fact. I nodded. Something shifted in his eyes, and his lips twisted. "Why?"
I blinked. Wasn't it obvious? "I couldn't just leave you out there, insane and alone and what-not."
"Yes you could."
"No, I couldn't."
Something shifted in his eyes, and he looked away, pulling his sheets off of the floor and wrapping himself in them. Then, his eyebrows furrowed again.
"I didn't go to sleep on my bed. I fell asleep on the couch."
"Yeah, I moved you over to your bed. You looked uncomfortable on the couch."
He shook his head disbelievingly. "I don't get you," he said eventually.
For some reason, I smiled. "Puck, it's called kindness."
"People aren't supposed to show me kindness."
"Yeah, well, I don't particularly care about those other people."
He frowned. "You should."
"No, actually, I shouldn't. Everyone deserves a little kindness."
"No, they don't."
"Yes, they do."
He huffed angrily and turned around, sheets whipping to emphasize his irritation. I grinned.
"Oh get over it Puck. That's what friends are for."
The words made him stiffen, and he actually turned around to look at me. "What?"
"I said, that's what friends are for."
"Friends?"
"Yeah! Why else would I freeze my ass off for you?"
I expected him to say we weren't friends, weren't even close to friends, but instead he just stared at me. "I get enemies. I get clients. I get targets. I get helpers. But you? I don't get you."
He shook his head wordlessly, and I curtsied. "Thank you for the complement."
"It wasn't a complement."
"Yes it was."
He glared at me harshly, and I shot him a cheeky smile, and he turned around and hopped into bed. I didn't understand what was going on. I didn't understand why Puck didn't remember anything. But I was too tired to think about it anymore. And asking him about it only seemed to irritate him, to hurt him, and he had gone through enough today as it was. So I decided to give him a break.
After all, what else friends are for?
That's right.
Friends.
Again, sorry that took so long! Life gets in the way of so much. Ugh.
Well, hope you enjoyed and also hope I update sooner next time.
LOVE YOU ALL AND THANKS FOR BEING AS PATIENT AS POSSIBLE!
-anniepear
(again, I will be posting the review later. Geez I'm super behind!)
